


Raising Hell

by Tousled_Sky



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adoption, Family, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, child rearing, tags to be added each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 21:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tousled_Sky/pseuds/Tousled_Sky
Summary: Aziraphale strode over to look down at the baby bundled in the demon’s arms, then raised his eyes to meet Crowley’s own.“Please tell me you don’t mean to sacrifice him.”AkaThough Aziraphale’s time on Earth has taken him many unexpected places, raising the son of Satan with the servant of Satan is undoubtedly the strangest path he’s found himself on.





	Raising Hell

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen a few fics where Crowley and Aziraphale adopt (or steal) Adam and raise him as their own, so I decided to write my own.  
> There will be more chapters (hopefully they won't take me 13 months to post like it did with We'll Never be Worlds Apart but honestly no promises).  
> Please review this hot garbage.

Aziraphale had walked in on Crowley doing some strange things before, from threatening his plants to trying to summon spirits. Most things Crowley did couldn’t even phase Aziraphale anymore; when you know someone for centuries, you tend to become accustomed more or less to their quirks, demonic and strange as they may be.

However, the sight that met Aziraphale now was enough to make him stop dead in his tracks, stunned and lost for words.

Of all the millennia that he’d known Crowley, never had he walked in on something as strange as the demon holding a crying baby.

“Heaven on high,” he exclaimed softly when he finally found his voice. Crowley startled when he heard Aziraphale over the squalls of the bundle in his arms, looking over to him, appearing more or less as distressed as the baby in his arms sounded to be. However, Aziraphale was less focused on his friend for the moment and more focused on what (or rather, whom), he held in his arms.

Aziraphale strode over to look down at the baby bundled in the demon’s arms, then raised his eyes to meet Crowley’s own.

“Please tell me you don’t mean to sacrifice him.”

Crowley laughed, the sound humorless and exhausted. “Not at all. And before you ask, no. He’s not mine.”

“Then whose is he?”

Crowley groaned as the baby’s wails only grew in volume, grimacing as he clumsily rocked his arms in an attempt at comfort. “It’s a long story. I can tell you just as soon as I get him to sleep; I can’t concentrate with him crying, he’s been crying for _hours_ ,” Crowley said, tone growing desperate as the screams continued.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake...give him here, hand him to me,” Aziraphale sighed, reaching over and taking the baby from Crowley.

Instantly, the crying stopped. Instead the baby simply snuffled and hiccupped, and made other little noises; aftershocks of cries. He looked up at Aziraphale with eyes not yet able to focus, but still questioning and curious. Aziraphale reached down to brush his hand against the newborn’s forehead, and the babe yawned, his eyes fluttering shut. Within moments, his breathing evened out and he was asleep in the angel’s arms.

Aziraphale looked up from the baby to see Crowley staring at him with a mix of dazed amazement and undisguised envy.

“How,” he asked, the one word carrying a great deal of weight in his tone and expression. Aziraphale smiled at him, soft but still a bit wary; he had no idea where Crowley had gotten this baby from, after all.

“How about you tell me whose baby he is and why you have him, and then I’ll teach you to calm his cries,” Aziraphale bargained, nodding down to the newborn sleeping in his arms.

\---

“I know I’ve said this so many times to you that it’s probably lost all meaning, but let me say it once more; this seems like a terrible idea.”

“For the very first time, I agree with that,” Crowley groaned, raising his head from where he’d been resting it on the kitchen table to look over to the basket where the baby was sleeping peacefully. He reached across the table to top Aziraphale’s glass off with wine. Eyeing his own empty glass, he shook his head and opted instead drink straight from the bottle. “But I know if I’d taken him to that hospital, he’d grow up to destroy the world. Hell, never mind being pre-destined for it, if he was raised as the 1% with that elitist family, that’d be all he’d know.”

Aziraphale inclined his head slightly in wordless agreement, as Crowley continued, “I’m rather fond of the Earth, though. I’d rather the world not end. So I thought maybe if I took him; if I had control over the variables that make up his upbringing…”

“You want to raise him to be good,” Aziraphale finished for him.

“Ha. No,” Crowley snorted, taking a particularly long pull from the bottle’s long neck. “I don’t figure I could raise anything to be _good_ ; I’d just like to raise him to be…well, less destructive. If I can’t raise him to be good, maybe I can at least raise him to be better. If he doesn’t trigger the apocalypse, I’ll have succeeded.”

“High standards you’ve got there,” Aziraphale laughed weakly, before shaking his head. “Raising the antichrist to be good,” he caught sight of Crowley’s _are you shitting me right now_ face and quickly backtracked, “er, neutral; that would be grand. That is, _if_ you could raise him at all. You don’t have any clothes for him, nor any sort of crib, cradle or bassinet; you don’t even own a baby bottle, for Heaven’s sake.”

“I’ll…I’ll figure something out,” Crowley groaned, looking over at the basket. “You might not believe me, angel, but I’ve actually thought about this day for a long time. I wouldn’t have taken him if I wasn’t sure. I’m going to do my best to try to raise him, but resolving to do it and actually doing it are two entirely different things.” He huffed weakly. “I’m rather at a loss for where to even start.”

Aziraphale shrugged. “The best place to start would probably be to name him.” He looked over to the baby sleeping in the basket. “I suppose Moses would be rather fitting, wouldn’t it be?”

Crowley snorted back a laugh. “You’re not wrong, but I’m not naming him that. We can stick with names from the Bible, but not Moses. No one’s named Moses these days, he’d stand out to much.” He leaned over the table, closer to the basket, propping his head up on one arm as he gazed down at the sleeping baby.

“I’d say he looks rather like an Adam.”


End file.
